


Alternative Medicine

by sordes



Series: The Temple Harlot [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dry Orgasm, Established Relationship, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 09:23:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14422401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sordes/pseuds/sordes
Summary: The man in question pulled Ardyn into the room with a quick yank, Ardyn nearly losing his footing as the door shut again behind him, the slat falling back into place. It took a few moments for Ardyn’s eyes to adjust to the gloom—the storehouse was dark, with vats of fermented and pickled foodstuffs and boxes of household supplies piled in the musty space, only a few high, barred slits for windows allowing fresh air to filter in. It was hot, hotter than it was outside, and itsmelled. Not of sick or dust or even mold, Ardyn thought, but rathersex. He turned to Gilgamesh, who was panting loudly, back against the door, and his face turned crimson when he realized the smell was coming from Gilgamesh.Written for the Day Three Ardyn YesCon Week prompt "Past" / "Healer!Ardyn."





	Alternative Medicine

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the ever patient and tolerant [AccursedSpatula](https://archiveofourown.org/users/accursedspatula).

The herbs had a crisp, pleasant scent, one that would surely cling to Ardyn’s skin as he held the leafy ends in one hand, his other cutting the stems with a small blade. Ardyn’s hands were those of a doctor, a dabbler in herbal medicine, a surgeon if need be, and in more recent years, the conduits of miracles taking the shape of a warm, healing light. But Ardyn was a pragmatist through and through—the gift he was given had failed to come with instructions or rules, and he was loath to call upon it, except for the most dire of situations, not fully understanding the consequences that would surely come with tapping into even a fraction of the Astrals’ power. Besides, the magic didn’t scent his hands or tinge his fingertips green, tangible things that Ardyn had come to enjoy. It was a symbol of his position, of the knowledge he had worked long and hard to obtain, something that he had earned, not just been given on a whim.

Trips outside the thick city walls to gather rarer or fussier plants—plants that try as he might, refused to grow on the estate—were frequent jaunts for Ardyn. Though Lucis was at peace, there was a constant flow of patients into his surgery with all manner of injury and affliction, putting a constant strain on his stores of curatives and concoctions. He typically went on his supply runs alone, or with a single guard, as he never strayed too far from the city. Ardyn knew exactly where each item on his list grew, and hitting each patch or bush or (in the case of a special type of red algae) stream, and was back behind the city walls before midday.

“What’s that one do?”

Ardyn blinked, pulled from his thoughts, as he placed the freshly cut herbs into the wicker basket hanging off his arm. Gilgamesh, his sworn protector and discreet _inamorato_ , had appeared at the stables this morning and relieved the guard tasked with escorting Ardyn on his rounds, the rare occasion where he wasn’t occupied in the training yard or accompanying Somnus somewhere. Ardyn didn’t mind the company, especially given the fact that they were far from prying eyes or whispering gossipers, so he smiled as he got to his feet, dusting his shins free of some stray clippings. “The leaves will be dried and used to brew a tea. It’s quite effective for pain management.”

Gilgamesh hummed in response and extended a hand, offering to take the herb-laden basket from Ardyn’s arm. Ardyn hadn’t fully comprehended how _intimate_ it felt to be out in the wilds with him, completely alone—them being the only souls for miles around. They normally conducted their visits, affectionate and heated, under the cover of dark. But here and now—the sun, not too warm yet, filtering in through the loose canopies of the trees and the gentle breeze whisking through their hair—the absolute gentle serenity of it all shifted something in Ardyn’s chest, it finally dawning on him how precious this escapade was, his mind up to now wrapped up with the list of plants he needed to harvest.

“The roots, too,” Ardyn added, a beat later, suddenly feeling awkward and exposed in the sunlight. “They’re good to chew on, if you have a toothache. These ones are too young to harvest,” he barreled on as Gilgamesh slipped the basket off his arm, smiling down at him. “I’ll come back for them when they’ve matured.”

Gilgamesh lingered before him, really looking at him. They were free to converse and exchange looks in public, of course, but they avoided anything more than what could be called ‘friendly fraternization.’ Gilgamesh was standing too close for this to be ‘friendly,’ and though he really wasn’t that much taller than him, he was so close Ardyn had to tilt his head back slightly to meet his gaze. His heart picked up, beating fast and light in his chest, and he could feel the faintest heat rising in his cheeks.

“They’ll be larger, come fall…” Ardyn’s voice trailed off as Gilgamesh brought a hand to his cheek. Warmly, Gilgamesh rubbed his thumb across Ardyn’s soft skin, and Ardyn’s breath caught in his throat at the intimacy of it all.

“There was some dirt,” Gilgamesh said, his voice a low rumble in his chest, as he continued to rub his thumb affectionately over the spot, though the spot must have been wiped away by now. Ardyn let his touch linger, remaining perfectly still, afraid to break the perfect tranquility of the moment.

Their faces were so close one could feel the other’s breath on their lips. Slowly, Gilgamesh’s hand on his cheek shifted back slightly, so he was cupping Ardyn’s head, and reflexively, Ardyn tipped his face up a bit, parting his lips, his eyelids fluttering shut. With Ardyn’s request for a kiss unmistakable, Gilgamesh closed the mere inches between them, their lips brushing together, mouths opening—

The acrid, sulfuric scent of rotting eggs washed over them in a flash and they separated, curled in on themselves, gagging and coughing at the horrendous odor. Ardyn covered his mouth and nose with his hands, tears already welling in his eyes, as Gilgamesh discarded the wicker basket, finding the curved blade at his hip with one hand as he buried his mouth and nose in the crook of his elbow.

Gilgamesh unsheathed his sword in one fluid motion, his knees bent and eyes scanning their surroundings for the cause of the stench. Ardyn tried to find his small knife where he had tucked it away in a pocket, but found himself crippled by the foul odor, nauseated and dizzy. His balance failed him and he crumpled, stumbling forward and back, caught between the impulse to catch himself with his hands and keep his mouth and nose covered.

Just when Ardyn began to fall back, Gilgamesh dived for him, knocking him to the side instead, and he landed in a heap in the soft grass. Ardyn whipped his head around just in time to see the source of the stench—a malboro pup, just a tiny sprout judging from its size but nonetheless disgusting with its wide, toothy grin and undulating tentacles. It spit a thick, yellow solution directly where he had been standing, and where Gilgamesh now was. The goo hit Gilgamesh directly in the face, neck, and one of his arms with a wet _smack_. On impulse, Gilgamesh kicked the pup and it went tumbling—there was no way that the kick killed the creature, but likely was enough to scare it off.

Gilgamesh stood perfectly still, sword still raised, watching and waiting for any additional threats. The minutes felt like hours, Ardyn, too, stock-still on his hands and knees, waiting for Gilgamesh to give the all clear sign. It came quickly enough as he sheathed his sword then fell back on his ass, skin splattered with the goo.

Eyes still watering, Ardyn clambered over to Gilgamesh’s side, instincts kicking in, checking every inch of him over for injuries. Frantically, he tore the waterskin from where it hung off his waist and poured some of its contents onto a shred of cloth wrangled from his pocket, and gently wiped the viscous goo off of Gilgamesh’s face. “Tell me if it burns. Did any of it get into your eyes?” His voice was perfectly calm and steady, despite the ways his hands were shaking—a skill earned only through years of operating under fire. Luckily the goo didn’t appear to be acidic, and it wiped cleanly from Gilgamesh’s skin, leaving nary a burn or even a stain. It didn’t appear that Gilgamesh was actually wounded Ardyn realized, the more he fussed over him, save for a bruised tailbone and ego.

Before long Gilgamesh shooed Ardyn’s hands away from his face, wiping the last remnants of the mess on his forehead off with the back of his arm. “I’m _fine_ ,” he stressed, a hint of color in his cheeks. Ardyn didn’t want to be cruel and laugh at his embarrassment, but he couldn’t help himself, given the way Gilgamesh avoided looking him in the eye.

“Good,” Ardyn managed between laughs. “You have my eternal thanks.” He bowed his head playfully, unable to prevent the smile from forming. “I owe you a life debt.”

“A life debt is serious business,” Gilgamesh said with a mock chiding in his voice, still embarrassed, somewhat, but a smile creeping across his lips.

“Oh, I’m well aware,” Ardyn countered, leaning in a touch closer. He left a quick peck on the corner of Gilgamesh’s mouth, then ducked back, getting to his feet. “Thank you.”

He extended his hand and Gilgamesh took it, getting to his feet. “Just doing my job.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t thank you for it.”

Gilgamesh hummed in response. Though the ‘crisis’ was averted, he seemed on edge, happy to be gone from this place and any other stinky creatures that might stumble upon them. Ardyn, for his part, felt the same.

The two gathered the fallen herbs and placed them back into the basket handfuls at a time, the once orderly sections now mixed and jumbled. It was a mess for Ardyn to sort out later when they were back in the city, though, and the fragrant, earthy scent the pile gave off was pleasant enough to stave off any annoyance at the extra work. Before long the basket was in order and they walked back to where their horses were hitched to a mossy log, both perfectly calm; the heinous malboro obviously had opted to steer well clear of them.

Gilgamesh took hold of the basket once more as he (needlessly) helped Ardyn onto his mare, Ardyn indulging him as a sign of his contrition for his ribbing. Ardyn watched as Gilgamesh pushed himself up onto his gelding with a catlike grace, before he tucked a stray piece of auburn hair behind his ear, cradling the basket with his other. If not for the malboro perhaps they could have stayed longer, lingering under the shade and enjoying the gentle breeze, but both were antsy to head back, their nerves undeniably jostled by the intruder.

They rode single file until they cleared the forest, then side by side across the plains toward home, companionable chatter filling the time spent on their journey. As they rode, however, Gilgamesh’s replies grew brusquer until he was barely offering a grunt in assent or dissent. Ardyn thought at first Gilgamesh was simply tired from the activity, or his nerves were more shot from the encounter with the malboro pup than anticipated, though with time Ardyn noticed how Gilgamesh shifted in the saddle, the way he held his back ramrod straight, and the slight sheen of sweat that had settled on his forehead, the flush in his cheeks. _Something wasn’t quite right_.

“We can pause for a moment…” Ardyn didn’t want to embarrass Gilgamesh further, or imply there was anything wrong with him—but clearly there _was_.

Gilgamesh looked furtively to him and shook his head ‘no,’ grunting in dissent.

“I’m feeling quite tired, myself,” Ardyn tried, switching tactics. “I wouldn’t mind a brief rest. Perhaps the horses would like to graze?”

“We’re almost there,” Gilgamesh said as he spurred his horse on slightly, trotting on slightly ahead, uttering the first words he’d said in nearly an hour. True enough, the city walls had come into view on the horizon—they would be behind them soon enough. Ardyn urged his mare on behind Gilgamesh, assuring himself Gilgamesh was fine, just nursing a wounded pride… though his eyes were drawn to the way Gilgamesh continued to stir in the saddle, as if a swarm of ants had found their way into his trousers—suspicious, but ultimately willing to let it go if it meant salvaging Gilgamesh’s pride.

\---

It never ceased to amaze Ardyn as to how hot it could become in the span of just a few short hours. The buildings and high walls of the city choked any pleasant breeze, and all of the bricks and mortar only served to soak in the sun’s intense rays, baking the city and its inhabitants as the afternoon went on. What was an agreeable warmth beyond the city now in Lucis was a cloying, stifling haze that hindered both Ardyn’s physical and mental capabilities.

After returning safely to the estate and surrendering their horses to the stable hand the two parted ways for the time being—Ardyn to sort his harvest and Gilgamesh to, well, Ardyn wasn’t exactly sure, but he certainly took off with a purpose and speed in his step. Though a little put out by Gilgamesh’s hasty departure, Ardyn’s attentions were quickly pulled elsewhere; namely an older servant who had succumbed to heat exhaustion. Ardyn took his time tending to him, a man who had served his family all of Ardyn’s life, helping to lay him out across his bed in the servant’s quarters and wiping his body down with rags soaked in cool water. He was going to be fine, despite his shallow breathing, and before long the other servants assured Ardyn they could handle the rest of his treatment, shooing him away. Ardyn promised to look in later and check his condition, and warned the others not to labor too hard in the heat before he was off.

With one crisis averted, Ardyn turned his attentions to his haul. A servant had brought the day’s bounty to his surgery, if it could be called that, really. In reality it was a spare room, one of many in the estate, that with time Ardyn had co-opted into his storeroom for all manner of medicines, poultices, and supplies, and had gradually come to spend much of his time there, experimenting with the medicinal items in his collection and poring over any medical text he could get his hands on. It was only a matter of time from that point for patients to come to him, seeking him out, as if he held office hours; as if he were a _real_ healer, not just someone with a healthy curiosity. Though he never turned anyone away, Ardyn held his breath as he sorted through the discombobulated heap of leaves and stems, hoping that there would be no further incidents requiring his attention that day.

Ardyn steadily worked his way through most of the mixed herbs, a number of neat piles arranged around his workspace, until his peace was interrupted.

Sweat was streaming down the servant’s face and he was fighting like mad to catch his breath. Ardyn looked up at him, a bead of sweat trickling down his own brow, dumbstruck—it was beyond midday now, and aside from the morning’s excitement, it had been slow, the entire estate relatively silent. Whatever the servant had dashed over to report, it couldn’t be good. Ardyn stood in a flash leaving his neat piles, his robes swirling around him, and closed the gap between him and the servant in two swift strides.

“The Lord—Gilgamesh—he’s—”

“Take me to him,” Ardyn said, already half way out the door to his surgery, rolling up his sleeves. He was the picture of collectedness, but inside he was cursing himself for not paying more attention. It was obvious something was wrong with Gilgamesh as they were riding back to the city, but he willfully ignored it. Now, he would have to pay the price for his inaction.

Heart beating out of his chest, mind pulled in a thousand different directions, Ardyn surged forward despite his ragged internal state, now jogging after the servant who had raced on to lead the way, feeling as if he had stepped off the precipice between the last fleeting moments of calm and contentment into chaos, plummeting towards immeasurable loss.

\---

“I promise, I just want to take a look at you,” Ardyn insisted, the sweat plastered strands of hair falling into his eyes for the umpteenth time frazzling his already strained nerves.

“And _I_ promise—I’m _fine_ ,” Gilgamesh asserted from the other side of the door, stubborn, pleading even.

From the servant’s frantic manner, Ardyn had expected to find Gilgamesh on a gurney, some horrific side effect of the malboro pup’s attack having rendered his insides to liquid or enflamed his face and neck with some horrific rash or scalding burn. To his immense surprise, however, he found Gilgamesh had barricaded himself in one of the storerooms, and while his voice sounded hale enough, even with the thick, wooden door separating him, it was impossible to diagnose his ailment without seeing his patient.

Though Ardyn had rushed to tend to him, no matter how much he reasoned or begged or demanded, Gilgamesh simply refused to open the door for him. The more Gilgamesh insisted he was fine, the stronger Ardyn’s need to get into that room and examine Gilgamesh for himself became till he was nearly worn out with worry and desperation, the cloying heat only worsening his temper as the argument dragged on.

“Gilgamesh,” Ardyn called as he pounded on the door with his fist, “whatever it is, you need to trust me. I can help you.”

“I know, but believe me, it will pass. I just need time.”

Ardyn cocked an eyebrow at this. _It will pass?_ It didn’t sound as if whatever symptoms had manifested were life threatening, but by the same measure, why was the servant so urgent to get Ardyn’s help? He would not have been so desperate for help if something were not incredibly wrong. _Maybe he’s sprouted a horn_ , Ardyn mused then reprimanded himself for the lackadaisical idea. This was no time for joking around.

“Gilgamesh,” Ardyn pressed again. “Please. I really don’t want to break down a door on my own estate and force the carpenter to come and fashion a new one on the hottest day of the year.” He pressed his palm to the door, envisioning an oddly frantic Gilgamesh on the other side, with or without the horn. “It’s just you and me.” Ardyn motioned to the sweaty servant just behind him with his head. _Go._ The servant looked from Ardyn to the door, a protest on his lips, but he ultimately shriveled under Ardyn’s look, bowing his head lightly and backing off. “So please, just open the door.”

Gilgamesh was silent on the other side of the door for what felt like hours. Ardyn was about to ask again, to knock, his genuine concern bubbling up once more. As he took in a sharp breath to plead his case once more, however, the slat holding the door shut shifted on the opposite side, and the door opened just a crack.

“Gilgamesh?”

The man in question pulled Ardyn into the room with a quick yank, Ardyn nearly losing his footing as the door shut again behind him, the slat falling back into place. It took a few moments for Ardyn’s eyes to adjust to the gloom—the storehouse was dark, with vats of fermented and pickled foodstuffs and boxes of household supplies piled in the musty space, only a few high, barred slits for windows allowing fresh air to filter in. It was hot, hotter than it was outside, and it _smelled_. Not of sick or dust or even mold, Ardyn thought, but rather _sex_. He turned to Gilgamesh, who was panting loudly, back against the door, and his face turned crimson when he realized the smell was coming from Gilgamesh.

Though Ardyn was relieved to see that Gilgamesh wasn’t leaking his insides and wasn’t horribly burned or scarred, the relief hardened into a cold stone of dread in the pit of his stomach—everything about Gilgamesh screamed a man unhinged. His eyes were nearly black, full lips parted and wet as he ran his tongue over them, his skin glistening with sweat and his shoulders and chest rising and falling deeply with each labored breath. Ardyn’s eyes trailed down his body and he instantly realized Gilgamesh wasn’t wearing any pants, just his tunic was maintaining any semblance of decency, though doing a poor job of it by the way Gilgamesh’s cock stood at attention, poking up underneath the fabric. The man was positively frenzied not with pain (Ardyn hoped), but with lust.

“I’m going to need to you explain,” Ardyn said, stupidly calm despite the scene before him, stunned beyond belief.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” Gilgamesh sputtered, his gaze dropping then darting around the enclosed space.

Ardyn raised his hands in what he hoped looked like a comforting gesture, though he felt like he was face to face with a wild bear, unsure of its next move, much less a patient and lover.

“Let’s just,” he had to force himself to tear his eyes away from Gilgamesh’s arousal, his mouth suddenly dry and tongue heavy, “get you dressed and back to your chambers. There were some,” he cleared his throat, “unforeseen complications to this morning, I see. We’ll figure this out together.”

“I don’t think that’s wise.”

“Are you in pain?” Ardyn took a step closer. “Just start by telling me what happened. When did the symptoms appear?”

They were inches from touching, Ardyn’s hand shaking as he reached for him, but Gilgamesh skirted away at the last second, clattering against some of the heavy, earthenware pots. “I shouldn’t have let you in here,” he said quickly, determined to put space between them.

“But you _did_ ,” Ardyn reasoned. “So let me help you.”

Gilgamesh looked at him, finally, and Ardyn swore the vein trailing up Gilgamesh’s neck pulsed. He swallowed thickly and spoke deliberately, forming each word slowly and carefully like each syllable was backbreaking labor, or he had forgotten how to speak their common tongue. “Don’t be angry with me.”

_Oh, this was going to be good._

It had started just a short time after the incident with the pup. Gilgamesh explained that his skin where the viscous goo had splattered on him went tingly, then numb, then hot, like he was burning with fever. Though localized on the patches of exposed skin that were hit initially, with time the heat penetrated his flesh and coursed through Gilgamesh’s entire body, the slightest agitation from the wind or horse prickling and tingling nerves all throughout him. He stressed that it wasn’t painful, per say, noting Ardyn’s frustrated look that he hadn’t picked up on what was happening, but as the ride home went on the tingles, and even a new itchy sensation, had localized in one incredibly inconvenient place below the waist.

Ardyn blinked a few times, taking Gilgamesh’s story in and assembling the mental checklist of symptoms. Elevated body temperature, dilated pupils, raised heart rate, the arousal... apparently the malboro pup’s toxins were an incredible aphrodisiac. Though startled by the diagnosis, Ardyn was reassured to find the root of Gilgamesh’s issue. With the diagnosis known, a treatment plan could be devised.

“If you come with me back to the surgery I can—there’s a tea,” he said, wracking his brain for the proper recipe. “It’ll flush your system of the toxins.”

Gilgamesh shook his head ‘no’ furiously. “I’m not leaving.”

“Then I’ll go fetch it and bring it back.”

At the slightest hint of movement toward the door, Gilgamesh scrambled to stop him. “How do I know you won’t come back with guards?”

“Guards?” Ardyn asked, stunned. “Why are you so suspicious? Gilgamesh, I only want to help you.”

“You can’t go.”

“Just minutes ago you were bemoaning letting me in here.”

“Well, that was a mistake, yes, but now that you’re here you can’t leave.”

“Why the hell not?” Ardyn crossed his arms in front of his chest. He’d had enough of Gilgamesh’s obfuscation, the heat, _everything_.

“Don’t you get it? Why I locked myself in here in the first place?!” Gilgamesh suddenly surged up just in front of Ardyn, his arms extended, everything about him screaming derangement. “I turned the corner and saw one of the servants and he smiled at me— _fucking_ _smiled_ —and the only thing I wanted to do was tear every scrap of clothing off of him and rut until neither of us could stand straight! I can’t be around other people right now, Ardyn, I don’t know what I’d do.”

Ardyn swallowed hard, the wheels in his mind turning. If that’s what Gilgamesh thought of doing to one of the servants, just what was he thinking of doing to Ardyn now? “I understand...” Ardyn said, his voice shaky, betraying him. “Then we’ll wait it out.”

“I don’t think I can do that anymore,” Gilgamesh said, advancing toward him, forcing Ardyn to back up until he collided with one of the large earthenware pots. “There should be another way to fix this. If you’re willing to help, that is.”

Ardyn knew his cheeks were sanguine now, the heat having little to do with their color. His tongue was as heavy as lead and he felt exposed, as if _he_ were missing half of his clothes, not Gilgamesh. But he nodded, his dry lips managing to form the word, “Anything,” and in a flash Gilgamesh dropped to his knees before him.

Gilgamesh frantically attacked the thin sash holding Ardyn’s pants up at his hips, his blunt fingers struggling with the tight knot. Ardyn was too startled to either extract himself from the assault or dive in to assist, staring down at Gilgamesh like startled deer. With a snarl Gilgamesh tore open the knot and Ardyn’s pants were bunched up at his knees a second later, one of Gilgamesh’s scalding hot hands clamped to his thigh, the other wrapped around the base of his still-soft cock.

Ardyn tried to get a word in, but before he knew it Gilgamesh’s lips were around his cock, hungrily, desperately coaxing him to hardness, and he tried to take a step backwards. Gilgamesh quickly snaked his arm around Ardyn’s thigh, holding him in an iron-like grip, and locking him in place. His gaze flitted up to Ardyn, a dangerous, almost unhinged look in his dark eyes, and bobbed his head down on the cock in his mouth, his other hand working the base in a tight grip. Ardyn was torn between telling Gilgamesh to stop and letting Gilgamesh do what he pleased, the suddenness of it all preventing him from just relaxing and enjoying the pleasure Gilgamesh was bestowing upon him. As Gilgamesh drew back, slipping Ardyn’s cock from his mouth, and settled his lips just around the tip, lapping tongue fervently underneath it, however, Ardyn could feel his blood rushing south and knew it was all over.

Gilgamesh was panting over his cock, the hot puffs of air hitting Ardyn in short, frantic bursts, and Gilgamesh pulled back briefly, holding Ardyn’s cock upright as he ran his tongue up and down its underside. Ardyn wasn’t sure if the effects of the aphrodisiac were contagious, especially given the fact that they had yet to really exchange any fluids, but there was no denying that seeing Gilgamesh in such a state was having an impact on him. Gilgamesh moaned deeply, his eyes hazy and unfocused but trained on Ardyn’s face, as he sloppily adorned the underside of his cock with wet, open-mouthed kisses. It was all Ardyn could do to tangle his fingers in Gilgamesh’s damp hair and hold on for dear life, his own mouth open but his capacity for speech lost.

His cock twitched when Gilgamesh swirled his tongue over the tip, smearing the pearlescent beads of precome around the slit, Ardyn’s knees nearly buckling at the sensation. “Gilgamesh,” he choked out, his voice shaky and sounding completely different from what he knew, like it belonged to a stranger. Humming in the affirmative, Gilgamesh slipped Ardyn’s cock back into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks, and sucked, dutifully bobbing his head up and down, face flushed and dark eyes alight with arousal. Ardyn gripped his hair tighter, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight before him, the heat of the storeroom smothering them both, trickles of sweat sliding down his back between his shoulder blades, and threatening to rob him of his consciousness. Everything about this was filthy, from the literal motes of dust drifting through the slits of sunlight to the lurid sounds of suction from Gilgamesh’s mouth.

Gilgamesh threw everything he had into sucking Ardyn’s cock, and then some. At some point in time—Ardyn had no idea when—Gilgamesh had slipped his hand down from Ardyn’s cock to his own and was stroking himself furiously. Self-control was lost on Ardyn now, and he held Gilgamesh in place deep on his cock, but the act only made Gilgamesh pump his own cock faster. The wave of orgasm built up suddenly and was almost overwhelming, Ardyn’s thighs shaking, and he bucked into Gilgamesh’s eager mouth, chasing his release.

If not for Gilgamesh’s arm wrapped around his thigh holding him upright, Ardyn might have actually collapsed when he crossed the finish line. Instead he curled in on himself, fingers digging into Gilgamesh’s skull where he held him deep on his cock, and fucked his mouth through his orgasm, a string of curses spilling from his lips as his finish painted the back of Gilgamesh’s throat. Gilgamesh didn’t once try to pull back or seek relief; he was as eager as ever, moaning and swallowing around Ardyn’s cock, pumping his own with powerful, deliberate strokes, like he was close to finding his own finish, too. All at once Gilgamesh let out a deep, shuddering moan, the vibrations from his throat making Ardyn’s back arch and electric tingles shoot down his spine.

Ardyn relinquished his hold on Gilgamesh’s hair when his shuddering hips came to a standstill, though clearly Ardyn’s release had little impact on taming Gilgamesh’s urgency. He was still laving his tongue all around Ardyn’s cock, despite it softening, and the sensation quickly became too much on his sensitive, over-stimulated nerves. Ardyn pushed back on Gilgamesh’s shoulders to get him to stop, and only with great effort did he manage to force Gilgamesh off of him.

He expected Gilgamesh to laugh, to end the harried, messy encounter with a wry joke or shockingly sincere word of affection, but this time there was a question on his lips, instead. “Think you can get hard again?”

Ardyn blinked down at him, thinking, perhaps, he hadn’t heard him correctly. “I…” Ardyn cleared his throat, searching Gilgamesh’s still blown-out pupils for clarification, but not finding any. “What?”

“Can you get hard again?” he asked again, completely and terrifyingly serious.

Looking down where Gilgamesh was still crouched, Ardyn realized he was still very much hard, the tip of his cock an angry red, his one fist maintaining its viselike grip at its base amongst the cluster of tight, dark curls. “Ah…” In addition to the aphrodisiac imbuing Gilgamesh with an apparently insatiable sexual appetite, it also seemed to be having some unexpected effects on his stamina. Ardyn was willing to put his body to use if it were the only way to rid Gilgamesh’s body of the toxins, and there was no denying that seeing Gilgamesh in such a state both deeply worried and aroused him. He _had_ been picturing Gilgamesh wasting away in some dire straits anyway. Letting Gilgamesh fuck him until he couldn’t walk straight really was preferable than having to amputate a limb or carry out some other gory surgery.  

Ardyn inhaled deeply through his nose and managed to unwind Gilgamesh’s arm from his thigh. “I suppose I do owe you a life debt,” he said as he turned. He should have been mortified, really, offering himself up for the taking—not a single doubt in his mind that Gilgamesh would be rough and wild—but the idea sent a thrill jolting through him. Hands shaking slightly with excitement, Ardyn gripped the rim of the heavy earthenware pot behind him and leaned forward, only slightly ashamed of exposing himself so, and braced himself for what would shortly follow.

Though he expected Gilgamesh to pounce, to devour him whole, Gilgamesh didn’t even try. Confused, Ardyn looked back over his shoulder to see Gilgamesh rise and pad over to where a number of crates were stacked one on top of the other in the corner.

“I asked if you could get hard for a reason,” he said as he turned and hopped up onto one of the crates. “I want _you_ to fuck _me_ , Ardyn.”

Ardyn blinked once, twice, the realization of Gilgamesh’s request hitting him all at once and not quite sinking in. It wasn’t as if they had some sort of _exclusive_ dynamic worked out between them, and it also wasn’t if there hadn’t been a few tipsy nights here and there that ended with a cursory exploration of Gilgamesh’s ass… but fucking him was an entirely different matter, however. And for him to just come out and say it so plainly? It took a few moments for the pounding of Ardyn’s heart between his ears to clear before he could hear again.

So Ardyn stood stock-still, still half bent over the pot, still trying to absorb the magnitude of the demand and the sudden anxiety of whether or not he could deliver. Impatient, Gilgamesh reclined back on one forearm and drew a leg in, giving Ardyn a clear view of his painfully hard cock, practically twitching with need, and exposing his asshole—already guiltily shiny with some sort of substance. “I already—I thought I could take care of the problem myself,” Gilgamesh ground out, the embarrassment of the situation finally seeming to have made a dent in his hitherto shameless demeanor. “But now you’re here so. You said you wanted to help, right? You can do that by fucking me.”

Ardyn straightened and, as if in a trance, crossed the small room to Gilgamesh, his feet shuffling across the floor due to his pants still being pooled around his knees. Desperately, Gilgamesh grabbed for Ardyn as soon as he was within reach, reeling him in close so their thighs smacked together dully.

“ _Ardyn_.”

His name was so laced with need it made Ardyn’s head spin. Gilgamesh had always made him felt wanted, desired, but this was different, as if Gilgamesh had been stuck at sea for months, finally returning to a safe harbor. He spoke as if Ardyn was water—air, even—a necessity of life that Gilgamesh had gone far too long without.

Shamelessly, Gilgamesh took one of Ardyn’s hands in his own and clumsily rubbed Ardyn’s fingers against his hole, barely attempting to mask the groan in his throat. Ardyn startled at the suddenness of it all and at just how _hot_ Gilgamesh’s skin was—he was burning up, his body wracked with fever. Another side of Ardyn couldn’t help but marvel at the slight gape to his hole already; Gilgamesh wasn’t lying, he _had_ tried to take care of the problem on his own.

Concern overwritten with his own interest and growing arousal, Ardyn planted his free hand on Gilgamesh’s inner thigh, pressing his leg open further. “You fucked yourself?”

Gilgamesh whimpered—fucking _whimpered_ —as the tip of Ardyn’s finger grazed his hole, catching briefly on the rim before it slipped away. Ardyn found himself squeezing Gilgamesh’s thigh with a ferocity he hadn’t known himself capable of, his fingers sure to leave bruises when this was all said and done. He let Gilgamesh manipulate his hand, rubbing the rim of muscle slowly, eyes glued to the lurid sight before him, drinking every little moan and mewl Gilgamesh uttered.

“It wasn’t enough?” Ardyn wasn’t typically one for bedroom talk, but this was hardly a regular encounter, and much like Gilgamesh was caught up in the wave of the aphrodisiac, Ardyn, too, felt that his inhibitions had left his body and mind and both were free to be as base and filthy as they damn well pleased.

“Keep going,” Gilgamesh rasped as he let go of Ardyn’s hand and wrenched an arm behind him, fishing for something. Obligingly, Ardyn continued to rub his hole, his smile quirking each time Gilgamesh’s cock twitched in response to his ministrations, the head freely drooling a trail of precome that was slowly working its way down his neglected length. Gilgamesh’s hand was back on Ardyn’s in a flash, and he poured a healthy amount of oil onto his digits, the fruity scent and sheen matching that on his hole already. Slicked, Gilgamesh pressed Ardyn’s digits into himself, wasting little time. Already loosened from his previous attempts to relieve himself, Ardyn’s two fingers slid in with little resistance all the way up to the second knuckle and Ardyn gasped, both at the sight and sensation of it all, but also at the intense heat.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Gilgamesh ground out, tossing his head back, his chest heaving. Ardyn might have liked just to hold there, to wrap his brain around just how Gilgamesh burned, how slick and tight he felt around his fingers, his other hand so tight around Gilgamesh’s thigh he was surprised he hadn’t drawn blood yet. But clearly this was not nearly enough for Gilgamesh to take care of his predicament, so without further ado he began to fuck himself using Ardyn’s fingers, madly pumping Ardyn’s hand in and out of himself.

Ardyn bit down on his lip hard at the sight, in time coaxing a third finger into the fray, then a fourth, Gilgamesh taking it all with nary a complaint, the back of his head scraping against the crate as he writhed back and forth, back arched, thighs twitching and shuddering with each thrust of Ardyn’s hand. Ardyn could feel his own cock stirring between his legs despite being untouched, but he felt paralyzed, unable to move, unable to think, solely focused on seeing Gilgamesh in such a compromised state.

Gilgamesh sucked in a deep breath, arching his back further, his thighs threatening to crush Ardyn, as he manipulated Ardyn’s hand up and into him, so it was pounding directly into the sensitive cluster of nerves. His chest rose and fell rapidly, breaths uneven and shallow, and he worked Ardyn’s hand faster and faster, chasing his release, chasing relief. The orgasm crashed over him all at once, Gilgamesh letting loose a shattered cry—more of a shout, really—his muscles clamping down on Ardyn’s fingers hard. Though his cock pulsed and twitched where it lay arched into his stomach, aside from the drools of precome there was no wash of hot finish, like before, orgasm reached but not a hint of his hardness alleviated.

Ardyn swallowed, watching as Gilgamesh slowed his hand and eventually came to a standstill, working out the last of the shuddering moans from his system. It was good that Gilgamesh was young, a man in the prime of his life—were he old, or otherwise infirm, the strain on his heart would surely be life threatening, Ardyn thought. But again, Gilgamesh was always full of surprises, and he pushed himself up on one of his forearms, his eyes, though dazed and unfocused, settling on Ardyn.

“Hard yet?”

His words sent a jolt straight to his cock, and though he wasn’t fully there, Ardyn knew he certainly _could_ be... but where was the fun in that? Gently, Ardyn pulled his fingers out from Gilgamesh’s hole and gave him a reassuring look, one he had given no shortage of times in the past to a cagey patient.

“Patience,” Ardyn murmured as he bent down, dipping his face between Gilgamesh’s legs, nuzzling his face against his balls (which were unsurprisingly burning hot as well) and breathed in his musky scent, mixed with that of the sweet oil. Gilgamesh whimpered slightly in confusion, clearly wanting so much more than an affectionate gesture, then snarled as Ardyn slipped his tongue out from between his lips and traced it around Gilgamesh’s used hole.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Gilgamesh ground out, then choked out a foreign curse as Ardyn teased him, slipping his tongue into his raw heat, but only shallowly.

“You can take it,” Ardyn taunted. “I think the situation calls for some levity, anyway.”

Though Gilgamesh likely craved more of that harsh friction, to be fucked hard enough to make him go cross-eyed and lame, from the way he pulled Ardyn’s on hair, both hands clamped to his skull, and held him down between his legs as Ardyn lapped his tongue over his hole, he didn’t seem to be _too_ unhappy with the situation. Ardyn’s hands found either side of Gilgamesh’s ass and pulled his cheeks open giving him unfettered access, and he laved his tongue over the sweltering heat, his own mind a haze, devoid of logical thought, filled with only the need to get Gilgamesh off.

Sweat—both his and Gilgamesh’s—mixed with spit and oil and precome, and before long Ardyn had no idea which direction was up or down, the pressure on him from Gilgamesh’s hands and legs immense. Gilgamesh’s urgency only pushed him harder, and Ardyn pressed his tongue into Gilgamesh’s hole, the muscle offering almost no resistance now, just taking every inch Ardyn had to give.

The taste didn’t even register on Ardyn’s tongue he was so enamored with the filthy sounds Gilgamesh made and the feeling of his heat on his lips. Gilgamesh’s hands quaked on the sides of his head, fingers tangled in his hair, and though he was a good sport to begin with, now he couldn’t stop himself from pulling Ardyn’s face into himself, craving that friction like mad.

Ardyn retracted his tongue, panted into Gilgamesh’s skin, and let himself be maneuvered, his lips smearing in the mess. His own cock was twitching where it hung between his legs, a thin line of precome dripping down onto the dusty floor. Ardyn dimly thought that the toxin, the aphrodisiac, must be contagious, or at least that he’d received a contact high, but was beyond the point of caring, only the basest instinct to fuck keeping him upright. When Gilgamesh let up on the pressure just a hair, Ardyn opened his eyes and looked at his painfully hard cock and let out a low, desperate sound. Every fiber of his being was urging him to touch and taste it, to take full advantage of their predicament.

Shifting his hands to the tops of Gilgamesh’s thighs, Ardyn pulled himself up, his face low, mere inches from the length of Gilgamesh’s cock. Gilgamesh watched through half lidded eyes, his breath shaky, hands loose in the sweaty tangles of Ardyn’s hair. Coquettishly, Ardyn pursed his lips and blew on the underside of his cock as he made his way to the tip, then dipped in to lap up the puddle of precome that had formed on Gilgamesh’s stomach. Gilgamesh groaned watching him, their eyes meeting as Ardyn ran his tongue over his bottom lip.

“ _Ardyn…_ ”

He might as well have been raking Gilgamesh over hot coals, or rending his flesh from his back from how desperately he said Ardyn’s name. Ardyn didn’t regard himself as some lothario or Adonis, but from how utterly wanton Gilgamesh was, malleable putty in his hands, he was starting to feel that way. Emboldened, tongue poking out from between his lips, Ardyn ghosted it over the tip of Gilgamesh’s cock, and was absolutely pleased with himself from the way the barest hint of contact made Gilgamesh moan deeply, caught between wanting to toss his head back and jockey for a better view.

Ardyn teased him for the better part of five minutes, lightly running his tongue around the tip of Gilgamesh’s cock until it simply wept freely, a steady drip of precome quickly making a mess on his stomach once more. He brought Gilgamesh to the edge once more like this, with only the faintest of touches, and when he could tell Gilgamesh was nearly there, he even mercifully wrapped a hand around the base of his cock—though his grip was loose.

Gilgamesh let fly an entirely new string of curses when the orgasm swept over him, the crate rocking beneath him as his whole body shook. To Ardyn’s chagrin, again there was no great release, no relief in sight, and Gilgamesh’s cock remained both parts impressively and frighteningly hard when the orgasm rode out its course.

“Are you fucking hard?” Gilgamesh asked between labored breaths. He didn’t even have the strength to hold his head up and look at Ardyn as he asked, sprawled out on the crates. Ardyn felt a twinge of guilt for toying with Gilgamesh so, but from the dull ache in his balls and sharp twinge of need in his perfectly hard cock, he as sure he wouldn’t need to keep feeling sorry for much longer.

Ardyn straightened and quickly leaned over Gilgamesh for the bottle of oil. Though in reality it probably wasn’t necessary at this point, Ardyn quickly poured some onto his cock, then smeared it down his length with his fist, holding the tails of his robe out of the way. He looked down at Gilgamesh, his chest heaving, absolutely strung out on both parts bliss and frustration, and in a strange moment of tenderness, gave Gilgamesh’s thigh a warm caress. _Everything was going to be alright… probably._

With little else to do, Ardyn lined himself up with Gilgamesh and, having had enough with teasing, pressed in, breaching the ring of muscle. Having had his fingers, then tongue, inside of Gilgamesh already, the heat came as little surprise, but the renewed intensity of it all, clamped tightly around his cock, squeezed out the breath in his lungs and made his heart skip a beat. By the time he was fully hilted, Ardyn had nearly collapsed on top of Gilgamesh, panting into his neck, the sensation of it all ten times more intense than he had ever imagined.

“Fucking finally,” Gilgamesh grunted, wrapping a heavy arm over Ardyn’s back and holding him there, deep inside, chests pressed flush together. Ardyn raised his head slightly, the lurid fog of the situation lifting a tad as he came to terms with just how intimately joined they were. He suddenly wanted nothing more than to kiss Gilgamesh, to tell him how good he felt.

“Gilgamesh,” he sighed, lips parted, head tiled back, asking for a kiss just as he had earlier that morning. It seemed that were some things in life—a rare request for a kiss from Ardyn, for one—that even an aphrodisiac this potent could not keep Gilgamesh from doing, and he raised his head, their lips meeting in between in an open-mouthed kiss, wet and urgent. Ardyn moaned into his mouth as their tongues slid against each other, Gilgamesh licking into his mouth hungrily. As they kissed Ardyn’s hands roamed up and over Gilgamesh’s side and over his chest between them, his hips bucking up experimentally.

Ardyn was panting when their mouths separated, overwhelmed by it all. Gilgamesh kissed him again once, twice, licking Ardyn’s lips. “More,” he begged, “Ardyn.” Swallowing, Ardyn bared his neck for Gilgamesh to run his lips and teeth down, nipping and biting him, urging him on. Ardyn bucked his hips up, slow and deep, trying to establish a rhythm, Gilgamesh’s mouth doing little to help. Huffing, Ardyn pushed himself back up and out of reach—the affection appreciated, but preventing him from doing his job. Gilgamesh let him go, a grin teasing at his lips despite everything, and wrapped his legs around Ardyn’s waist, hauling him in seemingly deeper than he was before, both of them groaning when their thighs made impact.

“Is that better?” Ardyn asked, hardly sure if he was slurring his words or not, drunk on the image of Gilgamesh beneath him, cheeks flushed, strands of his long, dark hair clinging to his forehead and cheeks.

Gilgamesh nodded, eyes rolling back in his head as Ardyn began to fuck him in earnest, snapping his hips up sharply. A gruff “ _Deeper_ ” was all he could manage, his legs slipping, then tightening again around Ardyn’s waist, holding him in close.

Ardyn’s mouth fell open and a hand tore open Gilgamesh’s tunic, exposing his chest and the dusting of coarse, dark hair. He groped Gilgamesh’s pec, thumb sliding over and circling the dark bead of his nipple, using the firm muscle as both anchor and leverage point. Palm slick with sweat, Ardyn’s grip nearly faltered multiple times as he bucked his hips into Gilgamesh, his breath ragged already. He let the wave of adrenaline and hormones carry him, giving into the basic reflex to rut himself silly, Gilgamesh’s powerful legs, nearly as hot as he was inside, preventing him from fleeing, even if he wanted to.

“Deeper—deeper,” Gilgamesh panted, his legs tightening around Ardyn’s waist and holding him close. Ardyn’s head hung low, fighting like mad to continue bucking his hips, one hand on Gilgamesh’s chest, the other haphazardly jerking Gilgamesh’s cock. Desperately Gilgamesh jutted his hips up, trying to match Ardyn’s irregular rhythm, seeking out both every last inch Ardyn had to give and the friction from his hand.

It was a wonder to Ardyn how Gilgamesh could still be conscious after everything, still demanding more, still needing more—Ardyn was sure if the malboro’s toxins had hit their intended target, he’d surely be dead by now. He knew he had brought Gilgamesh over the edge no less than two more times since he began to fuck him in earnest, his muscles tightening cruelly around him and his cock pulsing in his hand, but relief seemed nowhere in sight. Exhausted and exasperated, Ardyn collapsed into Gilgamesh’s chest and focused on pounding away, harried and irregular.

All of his senses went fuzzy, mind covered by a blank, hazy sheet of white, even the sensation of Gilgamesh’s slick heat around him faded to the background until there was only the pounding of both their hearts, the steady thrum of Gilgamesh’s heartbeat beneath Ardyn’s lips where they pressed to his pulse point. Ardyn just breathed him in, underneath the smell of sweat and sex there was just the Indian summer smell of Gilgamesh’s skin—dry and warm, vaguely spicy, entirely him and entirely irresistible. He had no idea if he had been fucking Gilgamesh for minutes or hours, lost in his embrace, and he let out a broken cry when he came, his hot finish spilling deep inside. His entire body was shaking, knees wobbling like a newborn foal’s, heart beating out of his chest, completely and absolutely spent. Vaguely he was aware of the wetness trailing from their point of joining, of it smearing on his thighs, of the way Gilgamesh reeled him in somehow tighter still wanting more, but the next thing he knew there was only darkness and the comforting scent of Gilgamesh’s skin.

\---

He had no idea where he was when he opened his eyes, the bare beams crossing the ceiling above him not those of his bedroom. A dull ache in his back and shoulders crept in as Ardyn’s consciousness returned, his head hammering. He was lying flat out on his back, and as he pushed himself up, realized he was still in the storeroom—the storeroom where—

_Oh._

Frantically he scrambled to sit up, and let out a relieved sigh when he found Gilgamesh passed out on his side at his feet. There was a healthy pink flush to his cheeks, his chest rising and falling steadily, but still Ardyn couldn’t help himself but crawl over to him and check his pulse. It was night now, the storeroom still undeniably muggy, but not unbearably hot as it had been hours ago. Hours? Just how long they had been here Ardyn had no idea—really it was a wonder the door hadn’t been broken in and both discovered in their compromised states. Ardyn counted his blessings as he smoothed a few errant strands of hair away from Gilgamesh’s forehead.

Still, Ardyn couldn’t really breathe easy until he gently lifted up the stained tails of Gilgamesh’s loose tunic and, Astrals be blessed, confirmed his cock had finally gone soft. He had no idea how long it had taken after he passed out, a twinge of guilt knifing him in the stomach for not seeing Gilgamesh’s problem through, but relieved nonetheless that he seemed to be back to normal.

Torn between wanting to slip out to his surgery to brew the toxin nullifying tea, to thoroughly wash himself in his quarters, or to just linger with Gilgamesh, to keep watch over him as he slept, Ardyn’s body ultimately chose for him, a deep roar of a yawn working its way out of his mouth. The back pain would be intense, but Ardyn didn’t care─that was tomorrow’s problem... much like sneaking out of the storeroom undetected.

Ardyn laid himself down, an arm draped across Gilgamesh’s side, and slotted himself comfortably into him, kissing his jaw chastely. They would laugh about this later, most likely. The time they fucked themselves silly and to the point of utter and complete exhaustion. Maybe next time Gilgamesh would let him fetch the medicinal remedy, Ardyn wondered idly, his lids heavy and the pull of sleep already threatening to take him, or maybe not... Ardyn didn’t mind administering this form alternative medicine, he decided, if the situation called for it.


End file.
